Thursday, January 9, 2014


My Playroom—December, 2013

This is brief. 
When will I learn the lesson here…

I’m on one of the vanilla hook up sites, sometime in October, and I notice him. It’s hard not to notice—he’s sent me three emails before I can open the first one.  “I’m new in the area.”  You got a big dick.”  “Breed me now.”  And there’s no picture.  Nothing.

I write back asking for one.  He has nothing on his computer or his phone.
I get a missive from him each day.  Asking to get in the sling.  Or to meet for coffee.  Or to let him suck me off at Home Depot.  Some days I get five or ten.

I keep asking for a picture.
Finally he sends me one.  It’s a very round, very furry ass shot.  I weaken.  It’s a nice enough ass that I can easily put the proverbial (and imaginary) bag over his head if he has no other redeeming features.  I agree to meet him at my house on Wednesday at 9:00pm. 

At 7:55pm I get a text:  “my stocky ass wsnts dick now..u ready”  (These are still on my phone—they are verbatim.)
Me, a minute later:  We said 9:00pm Still setting up the playroom.  You said you got out of work at 8pm—have you cleaned out?

7:59pm: “ lets do it now”
Me:  I’m not ready, but can push it up to 8:30.

8:03pm:  “ok8:30 chief” 
Then he doesn’t show.  I have seen a car go by and park up the street.  The phone dings it’s text announcement.

8:43pm:  im a stocky guy.that ok?
Me:  A little late to worry about that now—just come in if you want to get fucked.

Five minutes later he rings the doorbell.  He’ll win no beauty prizes, but he’s fine.  He’s nervous as hell.  He does have some gut, but I’ve seen guys with a lot more girth who tell me they are “muscular.”  His hair is thinning.  He hasn’t lied about his age—45.
“Let’s go upstairs.”  I have him strip down and get his clothes into the dresser reserved for tricks.  He’s in awe of all the fuck equipment.  I tell him to climb aboard the fuck bench.  He can’t get over the fact that there’s a mirror placed so he can watch me eat his ass.

And it’s a good hairy butt.  I concentrate on that.  I really don’t care that he is jerking about 4 inches of dick.  I spit on his hole.
“Fuck me raw.”

Well, that’s clear, too.  I stand up and enter him.  He feels good.  He’s not doing much to help—but his hole is tight (from lack of use, I assume) and it pulls nicely on my cock.
I pull out to tongue him a little more.  I’m covered in shit.  No, not covered, caked.  I looks like I will need a chisel to get it all off.

The fuck is finished.  He obviously had done nothing about clean out.  He doesn’t seem that bothered.
“You were too big for me anyways,” are his final words to me as I all but push him out the door.

Once I’m clean—I realize I am still incredibly horned.  I so rarely jerk—but I have to do it tonight.  I find a disc of Peto Coast fucking and fisting Rod Painter.  It’s easy to insert myself into the action.  It takes a while…but I drop a load into the condom covered shot glass—the start of a new devil’s dick.


  1. Oh wow . And I stress myself over MY physical appearance.

  2. Now....I play with men of all physical types. But they are men who truthfully represent who they are. They have posted pictures or have no problem sending them to me. It's just a matter of my knowing....

    This guy pestered me for two months before he sent me an ass shot that could have been from anyone. Moments before he walked through the door, to finally think "oh, maybe I should tell him the stats in my profile are not my actual stats" is not the way to do it...But I didn't say no....we could have had a good time--if he'd bothered to clean out.